


Godhead Hid in Hearts of Demons

by D20Owlbear



Series: 12 Days of Blasphemy [7]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: 'our side' is fine wine, 12 days of blasphemy, 1k words of navel gazing, Book canon compliant, Character Study, Crowley is asleep and has all of one line in this whole thing, M/M, Themselves, and how really they're very similar after all, and mostly just thinks, and what it means to be good or evil, as in head offices would say they've rotted with humanity, but Aziraphale talks a little, but like theological in the vein of good omens, but really they've turned into something better, lots of introspection, or something, please know that unless specified otherwise i write mostly book canon compliant, this is the same, with a lil bit of show compliance thrown in; as a treat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-26
Updated: 2020-12-26
Packaged: 2021-03-11 05:22:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28329669
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/D20Owlbear/pseuds/D20Owlbear
Summary: 1/12 Days of Blasphemy 2020“O Godhead hid, devoutly I adore Thee” (Adoro Te Devote)Godhead hid inside the hearts of demons. Aziraphale thinks on the nature of Good and Evil and how not-at-all different he and Crowley are while Crowley sleeps in his arms.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: 12 Days of Blasphemy [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1570819
Comments: 6
Kudos: 31
Collections: 12 Days of Blasphemy 2020





	Godhead Hid in Hearts of Demons

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mehrto](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mehrto/gifts).



> A gift for Mehrto because they drew a lil sketch in discord that sparked this whole thing. I hope it's as comforting as you wanted it, and I greatly apologize if I missed the mark on comfort (whoops)...
> 
> (Please note that all Blasphemy is unbeta'd and no i don't take criticism unless u know me personally and contact me on discord about typos and typos alone. )
> 
> All prompts can be seen [here on Tumblr](https://d20owlbear.tumblr.com/post/634159239793967105/the-season-is-upon-us-its-time-to-put-out-this) and [here on Twitter](https://twitter.com/Great_Ass_aFire/status/1325188860725223427)!

Aziraphale lay in his bed, and he thought. One of these things he did quite frequently and the other he did not, but they were both for Crowley. He lay in his bed, up the twirling staircase in his bookshop to the flat hidden at the top of it, to the right and down the short hallway into the bedroom that had been covered in a layer of dust that proved just how often Aziraphale used it. 

But now it was being used, he lay it in it on his back, his head cradled by the swan-down pillow and Crowley wrapped around him like the demon-snake he was in human form. Crowley's head rest on Aziraphale's shoulder and his arms curled underneath him between their chests and one of his legs was bent up to curl his foot underneath Aziraphale's thigh while his other leg lay between Aziraphale's. It wasn't the most comfortable position, and Aziraphale surely wouldn't sleep like this, but he'd never had a need nor a desire to sleep in the way Crowley did, in the way humans did. 

He rested, just as they all had on the seventh Day, this time in a bed of feathers and fabric instead of wings and firmament and with Crowley wrapped up in his arms sniffling cutely in his sleep. It was then that Aziraphale thought to himself, about Crowley. Oh, of course he'd been thinking about Crowley before, the feel of his bare back underneath Aziraphale's palm, the warmth of him pressed against Aziraphale and trusting him so well with himself that he would sleep in the arms of an angel meant to harass and protect humans from the likes of him.

Though… they hadn't been what they were meant to be for quite some time. Aziraphale, he knew, was a poor angel. He was ill-fitting and stuck out, unsuited for Heaven and "covered in Humanity" as if it were road-side filth. But he liked it that way, that even though he was made to be a sword of God, a creature meant to guard and enact Her vengeance and wrath upon those who would defy her… he had defied her himself, in however many small ways there were.

Aziraphale was not a good angel, this he was sure of, but with his arms around Crowley who slept pressed against him so peacefully, he could believe that he was a good person. And that was better, Aziraphale hoped. 

And then there was Crowley, who was a demon, textbook evil personified. Except… Aziraphale had learned otherwise, had found out in his millenia on earth that textbooks did not, and could not, hold all the wisdom in the world in them and that wisdom and knowledge came at significantly different prices. Aziraphale's price for wisdom was his preconceived notions of Good and Evil, his comfortable, safe retreat in his corner that let him believe that he was Good, that the things he had _done_ were Good. Because, well, if he hadn't had that, when he no longer had it, he had to face the truth that some of the things Heaven and "Good" had done were… atrocities. That he was _complicit_ in those things, even if he hadn't had a hand in them himself.

But Crowley was different, not from other demons necessarily because to think that would be falling into his own unjust assumptions again, Crowley was not particularly _special_ so much as he was the demon Aziraphale knew the best. Crowley was Good, honestly and truly, according to all the notions and things that Aziraphale held most dear, all the beliefs he touted and had grown to know well.

Crowley was a demon, yes, but Aziraphale believed, wholeheartedly, that there was Good in him. That, perhaps, the beauty and love of a kind and just God still resided in him. Perhaps Her grace was gone from him, Her touch on him in the way angels still held it, but truly were they different? Was there any truth to all those textbooks that railed against the Evils of any other cultures across the world? Aziraphale had read plenty, he'd seen how Rome painted the Gauls as barbarians, had coined the word even to mock their speech and ways, how the Western world often laid thick strokes of the brush over the East of their world to prove how Evil those not of their own country were. 

Were those not the most Evil, the most ignorant of them all, though? The ones who forcibly separated Humanity for gain? The ones who won their battles and wars and justified their means afterwards, claimed it was righteous and just once the bodies cooled and they wrote their histories and textbooks?

Crowley snuffled in the crook of Aziraphale's neck and he nearly startled out of his thoughts entirely in surprise at the sudden noise. Aziraphale smiled and restarted the gentle caress of Crowley's back with the palm of his hand. 

"Spoiled," he whispered to the moonlit room, "Utterly spoiled you are, snorting at me for forgetting to pet your back." But he loved Crowley for that reason, didn't he? Because they were the same, spoiled utterly for either of their "sides" until they'd rotted together into something new. Fermented, perhaps, aged with knowledge and the wisdom that only came from living life like humans did, until they grew into a fine wine. 

There is Good in Crowley, but there is also good in him. The human kind of good, the kindness that Heaven and Hell could never dream of, the gentleness required to pluck a shell of a newly hatched duck's head, the softness of heart to cry with those who grieved in the rubble of their homes. Azirpahale loved him for that, and he loved humanity for that as well, for changing him and changing Crowley as well. Neither were what they were made to be. 

"Oh godhead hid," Aziraphale whisper-sang, turning his face to press his lips into Crowley's hair. Because godhead hid indeed, hidden within the hearts of humans, within the human-heart of the dearest demon in his arms and, Aziraphale hoped most fervently, within his human-heart as well, no matter how poor of an angel he had to be to have one at all. "How devoutly I adore thee."

That, also, was true and Truth and all the reality in between. 

"I adore you, Crowley." Aziraphale whispered.

"Mphryfh–" Crowley agreed, and fell back to sleep. 

**Author's Note:**

> Come find me in a couple of places!
> 
> Twitter: <https://twitter.com/Great_Ass_aFire>  
> Tumblr: <https://d20owlbear.tumblr.com/>
> 
> All my graphics/photomanips are there plus you can find updates on anything if you send me an ask or message!


End file.
